The Hulk: Vegas Gray
by David Golightly
Summary: Miniseries written for the Marvel Knights Group. Starring Joe Fixit out in Las Vegas.
1. Chapter 1

It was well passed midnight, the moon was no where to be seen, and I was itching for a fight.

I cracked my knuckles simply by flexing them, my massive fingers ready to wrap themselves around a puny little human's neck. The soft neon glow of hundred of signs advertising flowing money, hollow promises, and cheap sex bounced off my skin, at least whatever light wasn't absorbed by my dark complexion. People were lined up around the corner to get into the place but before that they had to walk by me.

Las Vegas is the type of city where dreams are formed and just as quickly squashed. My kind of town. People pile in by the thousands for their shot at Lady Luck, regardless of how many people warn them that the house always wins.

I don't know about the house but _I_ damn well always win.

I've had a lot of names tossed at me over the years, most of them strong enough to make a sailor blush. Freak, Monster, Jolly Green Bastard…course calling me green these days doesn't make much sense. You'd think that I would get stared at more often but I doubt people want to look at my mug for too long. I'm as mean as they come and I don't take shit from anyone. People always ask why I look how I look. I tell them it's because I made a deal with the Devil. Honestly? It's not too far from the truth.

Sure, I've got my secrets. But so does everyone else in this town.

* * *

THE HULK: VEGAS GRAY

Chapter One

Written by D. Golightly

* * *

"Hey, Joe!"

The guy running toward me is a real bruiser by the name of Sal. He's not big on brains but not really lacking for muscle. Least, not in comparison to the rest of the casino's bouncers. Compared to me, on the other hand, Sal might as well be impotent. He pushed a few old ladies pumping quarters into the slots out of his way to get to me, a look of agitation on his face. Perfect.

"Joe, listen," he spits out between gasping breathes. "Been looking everywhere for ya."

"I ain't moved all night, Sal. I'm the doorman, remember?"

"Yeah, right, sorry." Sal was always apologizing to me. I get the impression that I intimidated the hell out of him, which made me feel good. "We got a problem on the loading dock."

I couldn't help but smirk. A problem for Sal was usually candy for me. I shouldn't be so hard on the guy, but one look at his stupid human face and I remember the kind of guy I am.

"Watch the door," I told him. "And don't let them Hiltons sisters in here again. They still haven't paid off their debt to Mister G."

Sal nodded and took my spot by the grand entrance to the casino as I sighed and stomped off through the hundreds of people. The casino where I worked, an upscale place called the Starlight, was one of the classiest places in Vegas and at any given time had a dozen celebrities hitting the tables hard. The big names that were drawn in was one of the Starlight's claims to fame. Johnny-Off-The-Street loved the chance to sit down and play blackjack with Hollywood's elite.

I was just here for the money.

Needless to say everyone got out of my way when they saw, or heard, me coming. Standing at seven-foot-five and weighing near five hundred pounds will get you a clear path through any crowd. And even if my size didn't my appearance sure as hell would. Even though I preferred to dress these days in a custom pinstripe suit I still couldn't escape my thick, gray skin and chiseled features. Plus, the muscles. Hard to forget the muscles. When you look like a friggin' colossal demon in an expensive suit it pays to get out of the way.

I made my way across the casino floor and through a door marked "employees only" with a swipe of my security passkey. I felt like a putz carrying the dinky little card around but it came with the job, seeing as how Las Vegas casinos made sure their security was tighter than a stripper's…well, I think you see where I'm going with this.

Like I said before, I'm just doing this for the money. Ever since that runt Banner planted us out here in the middle of the desert I've had to make the best of things. Truth be told, though, I prefer it out here. Banner's locked away in the back of my head where he can't bother me and the place is filled with my kind of people.

"Howdy, Joe," one of the cooks mentioned as I passed by, finally getting into the kitchen. "You better get out back; they ain't playing nice tonight."

I waved one of my massive mitts in his general direction and grunted an affirmative. Joe wasn't my real name but that's what everyone called me. I didn't have a real name as long as we're getting into it. "Joe Fixit" was what people tended to call me out here, which was a nice change from Giant, Frankenstein, or the Hulk.

I pushed open the last door between me and the loading dock to see a dozen guys all staring each other down. They were split down the middle with the half closest to the door comprised of the Starlight's security guys. The other half were a pack of punks that had been coming around lately, riding the orders of an asshole named Marcus Price. It was a common pun in Vegas that everything came with a price, and he was it. Price owned a rival casino across down the block and ran the place like he was Mafioso. Maybe he was; I didn't much care.

"Oh, great," one of Price's boys muttered. "The fucking gargoyle is here." He was taller than the others, apparently their leader. He was either punch-drunk or stoned, hard to tell which. Price grabbed up whatever prize-fighters he could as muscle.

"Unless you want your asses crushed into the cement, get lost," I shot back at him. I crossed my arms over my chest, each one almost as big as the runt that had spoken. I had no intention of taking crap from a pack of weasels. Mister G, the owner of the Starlight, was very clear on situations like this and as long as he kept the money flowing my way that was just fine with me.

"Christ," another of the boys swore. "I don't care what he looks like, we was sent to grab the cash box, Paulie, and we's doing just that!"

I tossed a quick glance over my shoulder and saw an overturned cart on the dock beside my security guys. Under federal law, a casino is required to financially cover every chip circulating on the floor, and since weekends are busier than a Tuesday, we need to bring more cash in to keep things legal. Price must have sent his boys over tonight in anticipation of that transfer. What an asshole.

"Take one step forward and I'll break your legs," I threatened, making sure to add a little rumble in my throat. Scaring the shit out of people can be just as satisfying as making good on the threats.

"Aw, fuck you, man!" the leader swore.

Just the answer I was hoping for. I could sense the other lackeys behind the leader getting ready to strike. The hairs on the back of my neck had started to stand up, meaning the tension in my own guys behind me was getting ready to overflow. The loading dock was tucked away behind the casino so we wouldn't have to worry about customers or people walking on the street seeing us. That was Vegas in a nutshell: always something going on behind the scenes.

I stuck an arm out in a motion for my boys to sit tight while I handled this. A few of them grumbled but knew better than to speak up. I took off my fedora and matching suit jacket, letting them both slip to the concrete. No need to mess up the threads.

I placed one fist inside the other and squeezed. The sound of my knuckles cracking was like a spine being snapped. It didn't phase the leader but his guys sure got a worried look on their faces. Damn smart to be scared.

Bravery apparently the only thing this mook cared about, the leader flicked open a butterfly knife with practiced ease and launched himself at me. I smiled. I doubted any of them would pull a gun since the noise might bring the cops around, but a knife? C'mon. He might as well be holding a toothpick.

I took a few steps forward and met the guy head-on…literally. Bending over I slammed the front of my forehead directly on top of his scalp, which wasn't easy since I was a couple feet taller than the guy. He fell to the dock in a heap, his knife clattering free of his puny hand. A red spot started to form under his head, which brought another smile to my face.

My pearly whites must have been just the trigger for the rest of Price's men. They all charged me at once, I guess hoping to find strength in numbers. These guys obviously knew nothing about real strength, because if they did, they never would have picked this fight.

I gritted my teeth and let them dog-pile on top of me. A couple were trying to punch me in the face while the rest simply tried to weigh me down. Not a bad strategy, really, except that it would take a hell of a lot more than these idiots to bring me down. Say something like a tank.

"You okay, big man?" one of the Starlight's security guards asked me. I tossed a glance back at the group, each of them ready to start swinging.

I closed my fist around the head of one of Price's boys and said, "Gimme a sec."

If the guy thought he was dreaming I'm sure me tossing his carcass into the brick wall woke him up. He bounced off the wall and fell beside his leader and didn't look like he would be walking again any time soon. His buddies continued to tickle me with their punches, the sight of two of their friends knocked out egging them on to win the fight.

Next, I reached over my shoulder and pulled another mook off of me, this one I swear had been biting me. Probably chipped a tooth, the little prick. I tossed him straight up into the air a couple dozen feet and grabbed another of his pals from off my back, cocking back my arm and steadying my aim. I threw him hard enough to slam into the first guy in midair before gravity had started pulling him. The momentum of the second guy carried them both across the loading dock and into the side of a white van we kept around for money transports.

After seeing my pitching skills the remaining guys let go of me and started to back away. "Now," I told my own boys.

The Starlight's security detail ain't the smartest in the world, but damn are they scrappers. I like to think I inspire them to fight dirty. After all, Vegas wasn't built without spilling a little blood, right? Whatever concepts you've seen in the movies aren't that far off from the real deal.

They knocked them over, took out their legs first, and then surrounded Price's leftovers. I heard a lot of muffled pleas but knew that they were falling on deaf ears. When I saw a tooth roll out from under the huddle I decided to call them off.

No need for body bags and a drive out to the desert tonight.

* * *

"Goddammit, Joe, I told you to leave me alone!"

Marlo Chandler slammed her front door and I was left standing there with egg on my face. Well, not really since there ain't much that can actually embarrass me. I just take what I want usually but that wasn't going to work with Marlo. She was better than that.

"Gimme a break," I hollered through the wooden door. "It's been one of those nights, babe."

"It's always one of those night, Joe."

She was right. Marlo was an aerobics instructor I had bumped into one night on the strip…sort of. It's complicated. Anyway, ever since I wandered in from the middle of nowhere and gotten myself a job at the Starlight I'd been trying to melt Marlo's heart. I don't know what it was about her but I couldn't get her out of my head. It's like there was something ingrained in my brain that she was worth all the trouble and insults. Suffice it to say she hadn't taken kindly to my gentlemanly advances. Maybe I just had a thing for redheads.

Like most people, she doesn't know who I really am. She thinks I'm your average Joe Fixit, Las Vegas bouncer and bodyguard. In fact, as far as the world is concerned the Hulk is as dead as a doornail and I have a new lease on life. No more being hunted by the government or crazy weirdoes in spandex. Even Banner had been pushed the back of my mind, unable to pop up and ruin things for me. Yeah, this place was a clean slate for me, and I wanted Marlo to be a part of that.

Too bad she hated my guts.

"C'mon, Marlo. Open up."

"Why? So you can creep out the neighbors more than you already are? What do you think is going to happen, Joe? Piss off."

Damn. It ain't easy to get under my hide. Trust me, I know. Here I was just trying to show her a good time, class all the way, and she acts like I'm going to rape her.

"It ain't like that, babe," I told her. I saw the curtains to the right of the door sway a little bit, meaning she was trying to peak out at me. That was good; it meant she didn't hate the sight of me. "I just thought maybe we could…catch a show or something. Ya know. A night on the town. See where it leads us."

Her hand appeared in the window, holding the curtain back just enough for her to peer out at me. "A show? Joe, something tells me you have more than a show on your mind."

"Ah, hell with ya," I shot back. A guy can only take so much. She wanted to act like she was too good for me? Fine. I can take a hint…but that don't mean I'm gonna stop trying. I'm not as stupid as that puny Banner, after all.

I have plans for this town, and it looks like it's about time to put them into motion. Once I get what's coming to me Marlo will think twice before slamming her door again.

High class, all the way.

* * *

"So, what you're telling me is that it's in my best interests to hire you."

I nodded my head. I was smart and so was he, which should be enough to get this deal going. I'm tired of all these pricks treatin' me like a lump of muscle. That was the old me, another person. Literally. Once I got this asshole to sign off on my offer I could work my way that much further up the ladder.

"But what of your current employer?" he asked me. Figured that'd be his first question. Guys like this have no trust. "I doubt he'd want to let you go, Mister Fixit. In fact, I might even say it would escalate our little war here to a whole new level."

"Even if it did," I replied, "with me on your side that war is as good as won."

"You're probably right!" he laughed. The sound of his guffaws made me want to puke but I kept a straight face and stood rigid. Always better to look intimidating than to show any other emotion. "You got a deal, Mister Fixit."

I uncrossed my arms and covered the gaping distance between us in one step, offering my hand to seal the deal. He took it and shook, even though his hand was only a third the size of mine. I'm not much for metaphors but I liked the look of his weak, pink hand in my powerful fist. In a way it showed how I would make things happen in the future.

"Glad to hear it, Mister Price."

This town was ripe for the pickin' and it was about damn time I got my cut.

* * *

CONTINUED IN CHAPTER TWO


	2. Chapter 2

Right about then I imagined that Mister G, the owner of the Starlight and my previous employer, was shitting a solid gold brick.

It's not every day that your top enforcer and security guy takes off for greener pastures. Of course, I was just playing these saps so I could get the most out of it. Hell, it wouldn't take much to turn the tables again here, just a few more bills thrown my way.

Joe Fixit gets what's comin' to him, and I ain't letting anybody step in my way. I'm riding this train to the top and there isn't a man dumb enough to step in front of me, least of all these puny humans. Nobody in the entire state that can stand up to the guy who used to be called the Hulk.

Not that anyone knew that's who I used to be. As far as the world was concerned, the Hulk was dead. No reason for them to think otherwise. And if I was a dead, what did I have to lose?

The answer, even though I didn't believe it at the time, was everything.

* * *

THE HULK: VEGAS GRAY

Chapter Two

Written by D. Golightly

* * *

"Move it, Joe."

I tossed a glare at the guy Marcus Price had put in charge of the operation, a pudgy bastard by the name of Sammy the Tooth. I guessed the nickname came along with his obvious enjoyment of inhaling food. He didn't much care for the look I gave him but I didn't much care what he thought of me. Fat prick.

"I'll stand," I told him, crossing my huge arms over my barrel of a chest. So what if he was in charge? I didn't take kindly to authority unless there was something I could get out of it. If he wanted to shove his weight around by telling me where to sit he wasn't going to like having my weight thrown back at him.

He snorted in annoyance and turned back to the screen behind him. There was a huge projector screen pulled down behind him against the far wall of the warehouse we were in. Most of the place was empty except for a few crates of whatever illegal merchandise Price was shipping through. About a dozen guys sat around waiting for the Tooth to begin his explanation of the latest plan and all of them looked on edge. Probably cause of me. This was the first meeting I had shown up for since Price accepted my offer last week and hired me away from the Starlight.

Smart move on his part.

"Everyone listen up," Sammy said, making sure to enunciate the first word. "The boss sent down the next assignment. Tonight we're hitting an armored car that's delivering something real important. This ain't no cash box or small time shit. This is the real deal."

He pressed a button on the remote control he was toying with and images began flashing on the screen behind him. A map of the apparent route the car was going to take, a blueprint of the vehicle itself, pictures of men in bulletproof vests standing guard; tons of stuff. The guys shifted in their folding chairs. A few of them murmured about the gravity of the situation.

"I don't need to tell you that fucking this up is not an option," Sammy continued, clicking on a laser pointer and waving the red dot on the screen. "Around here, Griffin Boulevard, we make our move. We get in, we take what's inside, we get out. That's it. Simple."

"What are we grabbing?" one of the guys toward the front asked.

"Whatever is inside. Boss says this is something real high-priced that the Starlight is having brought in for an expo. 'Course, now that Big Foot over there ain't on their payroll no more the Boss thinks this will be an easy grab."

A few heads turned around to gawk at me. I'm used to it. I decided to let the Big Foot comment slide since it wouldn't do me any good to snap the Tooth's neck in front of the rest of the crew.

"Nothing's easy," I said.

Sammy snorted again. "Yeah, well, the boss says you'll be waiting here." The little red dot pinpointed a spot behind a couple of buildings just north of the intersection where he had told us the thing was going down. "It's our job to make sure the armored car is stopped here, at which point you run over and rip the thing to shreds. You pop the thing open, we grab whatever is inside, we haul ass out of there. Any questions?"

"I thought ripping off something like this was supposed to be all classy like in the movies," I said sarcastically. I knew it was a dumb thing to say but I wanted to get under Sammy's skin. "Where's the wires? The mirrors? The bait and switch?"

"Hey," Sammy shot back at me, "this ain't Ocean's fucking Eleven and you ain't no goddamn George Clooney. Do as you're told and keep your mouth shut."

I smiled and the sight of my giant grin obviously disturbed Sammy more then anything I could have said. His pupils dilated slightly and I could smell the fear coming off of him. Sammy was one of those guys that talked a big game but when he was staring down the Devil he would piss his pants every time.

Sometimes looking the way I do ain't all bad.

* * *

_"You've reached Marlo Chandler. I can't come to the phone right now—"_

I slammed the phone back into its cradle, cracking the outer plastic casing. The bitch had to be screening her calls, she just had to be. There was no way she had been out of reach all week and not returned my calls. To think, I had been willing to put her up in the best hotel. Penthouses, champagne, flowers, jewelry…you name it and I would have bought it. With the deal Marcus Price and I had shit like that was chump change.

But why wouldn't she answer her damn phone? It's not like I was going to flip and go crazy on her or something. My mental state was more solid than it ever had been, better even. Why was I so hung up on her?

Hell, this was Las Vegas. You can't swing a dead cat without hitting someone selling sex like it was candy. Hookers, streetwalkers, call girls, whores…they were all over the place and at competing prices.

I deserved better. If some dumb broad aerobic instructor didn't want anything to do with me, then fine. I can take a hint. Her loss.

The phone was back in my hands before I knew it, dialing up Marlo's number.

* * *

Vegas gets cold at night. There's no way around the winds that blow in from the surrounding desert. You can hold your coat as tight as you want, but in the end, you'll freeze your butt off if you stand at the back of an alley and wait for the signal.

Twenty minutes rolled by then another twenty. My wrists were too big for a wristwatch so I took a look at the pocket watch I carried around (made out of solid silver, of course). Way past time for this thing to go down.

Either something was wrong or I was being set up. Whichever way you looked at pissed me off. I was already being treated like a dumb gorilla and the longer I set out here the angrier I got. You may have heard; I'm not a fun guy when I'm upset. There's different versions of the monster inside me and all of them react differently to scenes like this, but there was always one constant: Hulk gets angry, Hulk smash.

I pictured letting my rage out on Sammy's pudgy little face when I heard tires screech to a halt at the end of the alley. Showtime.

I covered the fifty feet to the street in one jump and landed right beside the armored car, facing the stenciled logo of the transport company. Three of Price's goons wearing ski masks were to my left, each of them brandishing guns as big as my…I think you know where I'm going with this.

"Let's move, Joe," one of them said to me.

"Yeah, cops will be here any minute along with fire and rescue," another chimed in.

I leaned around the front of the armored car to see what they had done to stop it. A telephone poll had been knocked over and was draped across the slender road, completely obstructing any traffic that was trying to get by. It was late and we were far enough away from the major Vegas action that there weren't any cars already piled up, complete with irritated drivers honking their dinky little horns. Live wires were flapping in the street with sparks of electricity snapping in the air.

"Shit," I said. "Subtle, ain't ya?"

"The driver's been capped," the first guy said. "Rip the fucker open so we can get out of here."

I shook my head at the fact I was taking orders from these pipsqueaks but the thoughts of all the dough I was raking in for this job made it bearable. I cocked both my arms back and jabbed my fingers straight through the side of the car with twin _thumps!_ The boys jumped back, started by my direct approach.

"This tin box can't…" I started to say but there was a sound coming from inside the armored car that shut me up. "What the hell?"

Something clanged from the inside again, louder this time. I looked to the boys who looked just as confused. "What did Price tell us was in here again?" I asked.

Before any of them could open their mouths I felt something slam against the tips of my fingers. I jerked one hand back, more surprised than hurt. It takes a lot to hurt me. Pissed off for a whole other reason now, I punched my fist back into the car and pulled back hard with my other hand. The metal tore apart like frilly tissue paper under the pressure I exerted.

The light was horrible and I couldn't make out anything on the inside. I leaned in to try and figure out what was going on, and that's when it hit me. Literally.

A solid steel wrecking ball cracked against my chin and knocked me off balance. I stumbled back a few steps, my teeth clenched tight enough to snap through an oak. My fedora fell off and rolled along the ground through a dirty puddle of God knows what. I instinctively ran the back of my hand against my chin even though there was nothing there; just a reflex when you take a hit like that.

"Ha!" scoffed someone from inside the armored car. "They told me I was going to be sluggin' it out with a big ugly-looking mother. Didn't figure it'd be Frankenstein's monster hisself."

A bald white guy stepped through the opening I had made, a long chain grasped in his hands at the end of which there was the wrecking ball that had nailed me. He was a little shorter than me but not by much. There was scruff on his face, maybe a couple days old. He was dressed in one of those undershirts that people like to call "beaters," with a pair of ragged, gray trousers covering the lower part of his body.

"So, you're going on display at the Starlight, huh?" I asked.

"Nah, that was just to get your ass out here. Name's Creel. You might want to think about changing your name to mud."

"Why's that?"

"Buddy, you're about to find out."

He was fast. He jumped the distance between us and flung his wrecking ball into the side of my face, sending me flying back into the alley I had been waiting in. Getting hit with a little thing like that isn't enough to do much to me, but he was packing some serious power behind it. I crashed into the back wall and slumped to the ground on one knee, ready to take the fight back to him.

"See, when I absorb the properties o' my ball here," he started to say as he lumbered toward me, swinging the ball and chain over his head, "I take on its strength and I'm damn near invulnerable. They told me you was strong. So far you just ugly."

I fell into a crouch and pushed off from the cement alley floor. He must not have expected me to fly at him from way back there because his face looked like someone had kicked his puppy. I stretched out my arm and caught him around the gut, knocking the wind out of him. He bent forward over my arm as my momentum kept us going.

The edges of the hole in the side of the torn armored car scraped into Creel's back as my jump slammed us into it. All my weight crushed down on him and I started pounding away on his face. Left, right, left, right…the guy could take a beating. Not once did he cry for help or for mercy.

"You sure took the wrong job," I told him. "Going up against me is like going up against—"

His first shot to my face spun my head to the side and his second one pushed me out of the car. His fists felt like sledgehammers wrapped in titanium wrapped in skin. Before I could sit up he was on me, driving his knuckles into my face just like I had done to him.

"You ain't nothing special," he said with a crooked little smile. "Hell, you ain't even enough to make me bleed. Thor would wipe his ass with you."

The thing, he was right and I knew it. One of my other incarnations might have had a better shot at this guy but Joe Fixit would have to be a little more clever. That was sort of my thing anyway.

I grabbed his wrist as his fist came down and squeezed, making sure to shove my fingers into his tendons and trigger his pressure point. I'm not as strong as my green side but I'll be damned if I can't snap this little pissant's wrist and make him wish he'd never been born.

Creel finally cried out and rolled back onto his knees, clawing at my fingers wrapped around his wrist. His eyes told me how much pain he was in which made me feel good. Must have hit a nerve.

Then these annoying little bugs started diving into us. I paused for a second, unsure of what was happening and I loosened my grip on Creel. Another wave of the little black things pelted us and I realized what was going on: Price's boys, who had been dumb enough to stick around through all this, were shooting at us. Both of us. The bugs were bullets being fired through their silenced submachine guns.

"Dumbasses," I muttered. I tried to tighten my grip on Creel but it was too late. He leveraged his wrist out and hurled himself at the morons. He bowled through them like they were duckpins and I know I heard more than one bone snap.

"Man, these little punks are like peanut brittle," Creel said with a sneer. "How do you work with wussies like these?"

Even though I could care less about Price's ignorant peons I still needed to take Creel down, and that would be easier if we were away from any possible casualties. I ran up behind him and put him in a full nelson, clasping my fingers together to make the hold stick. I felt his back muscles tense as he realized what I was about to do.

I smiled and said, "Say g'night, Gracie."

I kicked off the ground and shot up and over the city, bringing Creel along for the ride. We arced high and wide, the neon lights passing beneath us. He struggled but once I had my grip set there was no way he was going to break it. I had the bastard dead to rights a mile over Las Vegas. Even if he broke free the fall would still take the fight out of him.

This used to be how I got around. Even though I'm as big as a house I could still jump a few miles through the air. That goes to show how…strong…

"What's the matter?" Creel said. His voice was low and hard to hear over the wind whipping by us. On top of that I was having trouble thinking. I felt woozy and drunk.

"You know what else they call me? The Absorbin' Man. Know why? You're feeling it right now. You really are some kind of powerhouse, ain't ya? I'm tapping the reserves you got bundled away and holy shit do I like what I'm feeling. I take back what I said about Thor."

He wasn't making any sense and I couldn't pull it together enough to figure him out. The last thing I remember before blacking out was the wind cutting into my eyes, Creel's hands around my neck, and the desert floor rushing up to meet us.

* * *

CONTINUED IN CHAPTER THREE


	3. Chapter 3

My entire body feels like shit and for a guy like me that's really saying something.

Creel was gone, having let go of me after absorbing a ton of my strength in midair. I blacked out during the fall and when I came to I found myself sprawled out in the middle of a church. Of all the places I could have impacted in the desert, I slammed right into a church. Irony? You damn right it is.

That punk with the wrecking ball really worked me over good. So far I knew that Mister G, the owner of the Starlight, had hired him and set me up. Can't blame the guy seeing as how I double-crossed him first. Creel was somehow able to siphon off my power and use it against me, something I wish I had known before I had grabbed him and lobbed us into the air.

I was seriously out of it, in big time pain, and as much as it pissed me off to admit it, I needed help. I don't have to tell you how often I ask for help. It's not like there're a lot of people I could call, and even then, not many of them would actually try to help me.

Some days it just ain't worth getting out of bed.

* * *

THE HULK: VEGAS GRAY

Chapter Three

Written by D. Golightly

* * *

"You must be the dumbest schmuck to ever come through Las Vegas."

Marlo had a way with words. She got out here quicker than I had expected, which given that she had even answered the phone at all, was a surprise times two. Her red hair stood out against the dark background of the church's front and only entrance, reminding me of just how damn sexy she was.

"Never said I was a genius," I replied, wincing through the pain.

"Yeah, well, I must be an idiot for coming here so that makes two of us."

Despite the fact that this old place didn't look like much there was a working phone in the back, which I had been able to crawl to eventually. The only person I could have called and had a chance to getting any help from was Marlo, seeing as how I the Starlight's guys probably hated my guts for switching sides and Price's goons weren't too fond of me. She was the only person I knew in Vegas that didn't want to kill me.

"Damn, Joe, you look like shit. You're lucky I decided to give you a break today."

Okay, maybe she wasn't too fond of me but at least she was here. I had propped myself up against the pulpit to try and let some of the pressure off of my ribs. The fall had broken a few of them and it hurt like hell. Creel hadn't sucked all my juice out, though. I could feel the bones beginning to mend and every second that passed I felt a little stronger. I just needed time.

"You're looking good, as always," I told her. I leveled my eyes with hers, something that always made her turn away. This time she stared back at me.

"What do you want, Joe?"

I blinked. "Ain't it obvious? I'm hurt bad, Marlo. I'm healing but until then I need a pair o' eyes in case they come for me."

"Who?"

"I pissed off my old boss and he'll probably be sending some guys out to make sure I'm dead. Ya see, this ape of a guy named Creel—"

"Crusher Creel?"

"Yeah," I answered without bothering to hide the surprise in my voice. "How'd you know?"

"Jesus, Joe. Don't you watch the news? Creel is a wanted murderer, last scene heading for Las Vegas. It's been on the front page of all the papers since last week. He broke out of some military transport on his way to the federal pen."

"I don't have much chance to read."

She snorted and wrinkled her nose up at me. "Of course not. So, let me get this straight. You think there's a pack of killers coming to find you to make sure you're dead, and even though you'll probably be on your feet soon you called me to be a look-out."

"Pretty much."

"You selfish bastard! You don't even care that there might be dangerous gangsters on there way right now, not to mention an escaped felon is running loose nearby. You just wanted me out here in an effort to get sympathy. What did you think was going to happen, Joe? Huh? Was I supposed to see you lying there, get all teary-eyed, and rip my clothes off to comfort you? Was that how you pictured it, you disgusting prick?"

She was breathing heavier and her eyes were bulging slightly. She was royally pissed off. I've heard about "a woman scorned" and all that, but it looked like I was experiencing it firsthand. To make matters worse, her guess about my intentions was spot-on.

"Of course not," I lied. Shit.

"Fuck you, Joe."

She turned to leave with a flip of her long hair. I leaned forward and reached out with my arm, which quickly shot rivers of pain through my chest. I fell back against the pulpit, cracking the wood. "Just…just wait…" I managed to mutter.

"You know, I actually came out here thinking you really needed my help. I honestly tried to forget all the annoying phone calls and late night visits, Joe. I thought that you were half-dead and needed someone to trust. Turns out you're only thinking about yourself, again. You don't care about me or anyone else but yourself. Stay away from me, Joe. I mean it. Stay the fuck away."

She slipped back out of the church and I heard her car door open and close. The engine revved to life and she drove off, leaving me alone with nothing but a semi-guilty conscience.

* * *

"You're never going to change, are you?"

I must have slipped off into a daze after Marlo left. I had no idea how long I was out but I didn't remember hearing anyone walk in. With the hardwood floor the footsteps would be hard to miss, but whoever was talking to me hadn't made a sound. That wasn't good.

"Change what?" I asked. If I kept him talking I could probably find out where he was. "My boyish good looks? My winning personality?"

"Personality," the guy said, almost sarcastically. "How ironic. What would you know about personality? You only concentrate on what you want for yourself, without regard to others. I wonder which is stronger: your physique or your psyche?"

His words were becoming more and more clear as I cleared my head and concentrated. I recognized that voice. There was only one arrogant bastard that talked to me like that. Just one man in existence that could literally get under my skin and peel back my layers.

"Banner."

A pair of tiny hands clapped together in mock appreciation. I turned my head and saw the man I hated most in the world, Dr. Bruce Banner. "Bravo," he said once he stopped the irritating clapping. "I admit, I didn't really think you would figure it out. You're not the sharpest tool in the shed, Hulk."

"My name's Joe Fixit."

"Right, right." He stepped out of the shadows and adjusted his nerdy glasses. God, I wanted to cave his little weasel face in. "Fixit. You always had more humor than the others. Smarter, too. Well, not smarter than _all_ of them, but you get what I mean."

"What the fuck are you doing here, Banner?"

"_Am_ I here? Really this is all just taking place inside of your mind. Well, my mind. Our mind."

"Screw you. None o' this matters. Your psycho-babble don't mean jack shit to me and you know it. So, say what you got to say and then take a hike."

Banner took another few steps closer, his wiry frame looking like it was ready to blow away in the soft breeze. Just looking at the creep disgusted me. To think that I spawned from him made me want to vomit. It drove me nuts to know that deep inside of me he was begging to get out and take back control of our body. I hate these mental lapses I get.

"I just wanted to take advantage of your situation," Banner said. "It's not often I'm better off than the Hulk."

"That ain't my name, little man."

"Right, right. What's in a name, anyway? You are who you are. The point is that we can help each other."

"What makes you think I need you? I'll be fine in an hour."

"Creel's absorption powers do appear to only be temporary, but what will you do when you gain your strength back?" The scientist smirked and took his glass off, wiping them with the edge of his sleeve. "You obviously can't confront him physically or you'll be right back where you started. No, you'll need to outthink this savage. That's where I come in, Mister Fixit. The Hulk isn't known for being a quick thinker."

"What do you get out of this?"

"Survival, mostly. I've made a deal with our other selves."

Just behind him two more people stepped out of the shadows. To call them people is sort of an insult, seeing as how they were more like me than they were puny humans. They were both green but one was taller than the other and carried himself more appropriately. The shorter one was drooling carelessly on the floor and I could see unbridled rage behind his eyes.

Two other version of me, the Hulk. One filled with primal savagery and the other almost as strong but just as smart as Banner himself. I nearly shit myself once I saw them.

"You're reckless, Joe," the taller one said. "We're in agreement. You need to be stopped. The Professor and I will take it from here and our savage friend is to ensure we you're your support. Step aside and let me handle this."

"Ugly gray man not stronger than Hulk!" the drooling one screamed. The veins around his neck were throbbing with every word he spoke. "Hulk is strongest one there is! Hulk smash gray man!"

"Easy," the taller me said. He placed a hand on the savage me and that seemed to calm him a little, at least enough to not start thrashing around. "Do it, Banner, before the beast here is the one that takes control."

"Joe," Banner spoke up, "Let me to the surface. You can't do this as you are. Creel is too much, and who knows what else your former employer has waiting? He sucker-punched you once and he can do it again. The man has vast resources—"

"Oh, like you could do anything to stop him," I accused, stepping over his words. "You're nothing! All of you ain't nothing compared to me!"

"This is pointless," the taller one said to Banner. "He's too stubborn. We should have just overpowered him from the beginning."

"Hulk tear gray man's arms off!"

The shorter little asshole slapped the green hand off his shoulder and launched his stumpy body right at me. I managed to raise an arm to block him, something I immediately wished I hadn't done. He sunk his mammoth teeth straight into my arm, screaming the entire time. He closed his jaw down hard and broke the skin. I threw my head back in surprise and tried to rip my arm free but I couldn't shake him.

"Stop!" the taller one commanded. He raced forward and put the savage me in a choke hold, trying to get him to let go. I almost wished he hadn't since it only seemed to egg the little bastard on.

I got sight of Banner in the background with a horrified look on his face. He better be scared, 'cause when I got out of this mess I was going to strangle the life out of him.

I slammed my free fist against the green beast's head, boxing his ear. I threw everything I had into the blow and his ears must have been ringing something fierce. He finally let up on my arm, thanks mostly to the taller me cutting off his air. Feeling a little better now that there was some fight apparently left in me, I rolled forward onto my feet and head butted the shorter one square in his forehead. He screamed out in pain as much as he could with the taller me cutting his air off.

I began to pound the living daylights out of the brute, aiming mostly for his chest and abdomen. The bastard was stronger than me by far but that didn't mean I couldn't put a good hurtin' on him.

"Wait!" taller me yelled after a few moments. "You'll only—"

A left cross right into his kisser shut his mouth long enough for me to drive my knee into the runt's groin. The two of them stopped fighting each other, stunned for different reasons, and broke apart. I took the opportunity for all it was worth and clocked the savage me as hard as I could. He stumbled back into the taller one, tripping over his fat feet.

Banner started to panic. "Stop him, Professor! He mustn't gain control again!"

The taller me, apparently the Professor, shot a quick glance over to Banner with a worried look on his face. I jumped a few feet into the air and threw all of my weight into my feet as I crunched down onto the runt, snapping several of his ribs. His face contorted strangely and then I'll be damned if he didn't just disappear in a puff of green smoke.

The Professor caught me around the waste in a perfect tackle. We tumbled to the ground with his iron grip around me, holding me in place on the ground. Even though he was at least a foot taller than me his face was pressed up against my chest from the odd angle he held me at.

"Just give it up, Joe," the Professor said. "You know that Banner and I are your best bet to get out of this alive. If you take this any further by yourself then people will get hurt. Marlo will get hurt."

Hearing him say her name shot my adrenaline through the roof. I always get what I want and I'll be damned if this jolly green puke stain was going to take it away from me. For a second when he first showed up I thought that maybe he was just a green version of me, but now I see him for what he really is: Banner wrapped in muscles.

I hate Banner.

My anger soared, giving me a good dose of whatever power was available coupled with my burning desire to flatten this guy. I wedged my right hand in front of his face and pushed it out far enough for my other hand to grasp it. I held him steady by the cheeks and said, "Go to Hell."

I shoved my thumbs into his eye sockets. He jerked back but I held him tight, pressing my bulky fingers deeper into his skull. His arms dropped down for a split second before grabbing my wrists and yanking my hands away. He was still stronger than me but that didn't matter; the damage had been done.

Blood poured out of his face as he fell to his knees wailing. I slapped the top of his head and knocked him off balance, sending him to the floor in a big heap. If he still had eyes he would have soiled himself at the sight of my size fifteens about to stomp down on his face.

The Professor was beaten, and like his little buddy, evaporated into a puff of green smoke. That just left Banner.

"Get ready to die, little man," I said, but he was gone. Banner had flown the coup like the chicken that he was.

I stood up to my full height, reinvigorated and ready to kick some ass. I wasn't even breathing hard, although since the fight had probably just been inside my head, that made sense.

One thing you never do is make Joe Fixit angry, and Mister G had pushed my buttons. One way or the other he was going down tonight and I didn't care if I went with him. If I had it in me to kill a part of myself then a puny human should be no trouble at all.

He picked the wrong Hulk to mess with.

* * *

CONCLUDED IN CHAPTER FOUR


	4. Chapter 4

I'd knock but somehow I don't think they would invite me in.

So, I let my feet do the talking. The front entrance to the Starlight, a fairly upscale casino in the heart of Las Vegas, Nevada, is encrusted with your typical neon and spotlights. Anything flashy brings the clientele in, or more importantly, their money. You'd guess that since I was coming to kill the owner, Mister G, that I would do my best to stay out of such a high profile area.

Guess again.

The two security guys they had manning the door had radioed up for backup, and probably the police, too. As soon as they saw my kick the front display fifty feet through the glass windows above the entrance, they went from worried to scared. When they saw me simply twitch at their bullets bouncing off my hide, they went from scared to terrified. When their eyes got a hold of my face inches from their, they weren't from terrified to passed out.

I had planned on just crashing the place, finding my old boss, and giving him a beat down…but that all changed twenty minutes ago. Now he was a dead man.

* * *

THE HULK: VEGAS GRAY

Chapter Four

Written by D. Golightly

* * *

Twenty minutes before I kicked in the Starlight's glitzy front door, I had just touched down from a mile and a half jump coming in from the desert. I landed in a nice part of town where a "friend" of mine lived. Truth was she hated my guts, but that didn't necessarily mean she wouldn't want to see me.

Marlo Chandler was a hot, young, sexy aerobic instructor that had caught my eye one fateful afternoon while I was walking down the strip. She blew me off constantly but chicks like to play hard to get, ya know?

Mostly I just wanted to tell her how wrong she was for taking off and leaving me in the church by myself. Give her a real ear full. Imagine my surprise when she refused to open her door.

"Come on, Marlo!" I yelled through the door. Definitely been here before, and it sucks every time. When will she learn that I ain't some scrub that only wants to come around for shits and giggles?

"She's not there."

About twenty feet away was an older woman that looked to be in her fifties. She was clutching one of those Taco Bell dogs to her chest even though it was fidgeting to get away from her bony hands. The little runt was nothing but skin and bones and looked like something out of a Romero movie. Nasty little thing.

"She went out somewhere?" I asked. I recognized the lady as one of Marlo's neighbors, one of the ones that had called the cops on me. Twice.

"Some nice men in black suits came and picked her up as she was coming home," the lady explained while her dog snapped its pointy little teeth at her chin. "_They_ looked like they knew how to treat a woman."

"I ain't got time for this, Lady Godiva. Where did they take her?"

"Who knows?" she turned around to continue walking back down the street, making sure to flap her feather boa at me as if I was in a lower class than an eighty year-old streetwalker. "Star light, star bright…first start I see tonight…"

For a second I thought e crazy old broad had lost it. Then I pulled my head out of my ass and realized that men in black suits meant a crew. The Starlight's crew.

That brings us to where we are now. Twenty minutes later and a few unconscious guards. Hell, I'm really just glad for the excuse to let off some steam. After a bullshit mental breakdown that shot my testosterone through the roof, I feel like I have energy to burn.

"Joe!" somebody yells from somewhere near the slots that are themed after King Tut.

It was Sal. He was probably the only guy at the Starlight that I could stand. Not too swift but he was loyal and did the job right. "Just shut it, Sal. Get running if you know what's good for you."

A look of concern washed over Sal's face. What a bleeding heart. If I wasn't feeling generous I would have smashed his face in right there. I was in no mood to fuck around and any mercy I showed was only temporary. When I'm upset my sense friendship quickly gets tossed to the side like a rented mule. All I see is red.

"Joe, this is crazy, man! You know that—"

"I mean it, Sal! Get the hell awa—HYUH!"

The wrecking ball came out of left field. I barely saw it in my peripheral vision before it slammed into my cheek and was brought to my knees. Damn if that thing didn't hurt worse the second time around.

I looked up to see Sal get a little smirk on his puny mouth. He yanked out his Glock and squeezed off a few rounds into my face. Bullets can't do much to me but holy shit are they annoying when they're fired point blank into your eyes. Looks like I underestimated my boy Sal. Tricky little bastard.

I reached up and clasped my hand around his, gun and all. Compared to him my fist was the size of a watermelon. I shot his little smirk back at him and crushed the gun along with every bone in his hand. A little blood seeped out from in between my fingers, dripping to the floor in a puddle of crimson conscience. Maybe I was being too hard on Sal, he was just doing his job after all. The guy was little more than an ox, going where he was supposed to and doing what he was told to do…

Nah.

"Sal," I said, "you should have walked away."

I yanked down on his crushed hand, pulling him down with enough force that when I punched him with my other fist the impact was doubled. His head snapped to the side with a quick twist followed by a quiet _crack!_ I wish I cold have thought of a cool one-liner like in the movies, but well, this ain't the movies and I ain't Humphry Bogart.

Something heavy suddenly pounded into my side. The wrecking ball again. The enjoyment of watching the life slip out of Sal made me forget the big game that had gotten away from me over the desert.

"Creel!" I shouted, my fury pouring out through my teeth. "Where are ya, you pussy!"

His bald head popped into view just behind another row of slots. "Been wondering if you would show up," he said. He was almost uglier than I remembered him. "Didn't think that dropping you in the desert would take the fight out o' you. Wanna go for round two, jerkoff?"

I smiled a big toothy grin at him which said it all. This guy was just one more obstacle in my way and now that I knew how he fought I could take him done. That's the thing about me compared the other Hulks. I'm the sly one. Give me some time to know what's coming and there ain't no way you're ever going to get one over on me. I fight dirty and I'm damn proud of it.

"Bring it on, little man."

Creel snorted and raised his arm to touch the top of his wrecking ball. His fingers clenched around the sphere like they were almost magnetically held there. "Like candy from baby," he said as his skin started to change color.

I don't mean changed like straight from one to the other. I mean completely rearranged itself. His skin tone downshifted and came close to matching the wrecking ball's color while his features seemed to harden. The skin around his face went from smooth to rigid and his eyes sunk down like someone had pushed them in deeper. He dropped the ball after a moment and charged right for me.

I let him hit me the first time so I could gauge his transformation. The second time he hit me was totally by accident. Two huge haymakers rattled my teeth and I went sailing through the fountain that adorned the reception area of the lobby. Water sprayed everywhere, coating the entire lobby, myself included, in a thin mist of cold liquid.

"Funny," Creel said as he stalked toward me like a lion after a wounded gazelle, "I don't remember you having a glass jaw."

I ignored the wisecrack and shoved my hands down into the floor. Mister G had spent a lot of money to import huge chunks of marble to use for the lobby floor. Marble's pretty but it's also damn brittle, least it is to me. I pounded the floor hard enough that it opened up a crevice right under Creel, causing him to pause. I pulled up from underneath the tiles and marble shrapnel tore into the bastard like buckshot. Little indentations started to form all over his body as the pieces cut into his iron flesh.

He was disoriented, which meant he was a sitting duck. I reached back and grabbed a statue of the Sphinx made out of solid bronze. It weighed a few hundred pounds and was almost as big as me, but the way I rammed it into Creel's gut you'd think it was a paperweight.

The bald-headed moron exhaled sharply and doubled over from the hit to his midsection. I dropped the statue and closed the gap between us in one step, quickly landing an uppercut under his chin. Creel shot up and over a row of slot machines, crashing down on top of a craps table. The legs gave out under the pressure and he was sprawled out like a wasted teenager.

People were screaming all around us at this point and leaving in waves. A pack of old Jewish ladies ran by, reminding me that it was Thursday (they always come on Thursday to beat the weekend rush). Mostly tourists, a few stumbled over themselves on their way out, nearly inciting a riot. The place was in total chaos and the police would be here in less than thirty seconds.

I slapped a pair of slots out of my way and lumbered over the Creel. He wasn't breathing. The big oaf wasn't nearly as powerful as I was led to believe as long as he couldn't get a hold of me.

Creel's foot kicked out and caught me just behind the knee, causing me to buckle forward. His eyes sprung open and he sat straight up, throwing a right cross into my jaw that sent spit flying.

"Amateur," he said. "Playing possum, didn't you know? When I take on the properties o' something I don't need to eat, breathe, sleep, move, or shit. Jesus, when Mister G hired me on I figured I would be in for a good fight. So far you ain't been nothin' but disappointing. Just lie down and take it like a man; you're embarrassin' yourself."

I purposefully took his next hit so I could feign getting knocked loopy. I rolled with the punch and slipped my hand into my trouser pocket to grab what I hoped would save my bacon. He cocked back for another punch and I pulled my fist out, catching his as it swung down for the final blow. We sat there for a brief moment, locked in a struggle of brute strength, each one of us putting our all into it. It was like a weird game of arm wrestling.

"Goddamn, you really do have a death wish," Creel muttered against the strain of my leverage. "Remember what happened the last time I locked arms with ya?"

"Ain't no one stronger than me, pal."

"Your funeral. Nice knowing you, asshole."

I felt some energy begin to seep out of my knuckles, just like when he sucked me dry in the skies over Las Vegas. It wasn't nearly as bad this time, thanks to what I was palming. I felt my strength falter for a moment, but I wasn't worried. Creel was in for a nasty surprise in the next few seconds.

"Heh," he laughed, his ugly mug grinning in delight. "Feel that, do ya? What's it like to have your soul ripped out…wait…what's going on?"

His skin started to turn a lighter shade gray. The iron properties from his wrecking ball were starting to give out as they were replaced by what he was siphoning off of in my hand. Surprise leapt into his eyes and for a split-second, I saw fear in him.

"Hate to disappoint you," I said as I stood back up and towered over him. "But you just bought yourself a one way ticket to the trash heap."

His skin finished fluctuating and I took his hesitation for the opportunity that it was. With one quick punch to the center of his chest Creel shattered into thousands of pieces, dispersing all across the torn up floor. Most of his head remained intact, and surprisingly his eyes were still moving. Guy was damn near immortal.

"What the fuck?!" his head screamed, even though it was a little hard for his words to get through his chipped teeth. "Jesus! What did you do to me?"

I slowly walked over to where his head had rolled, crunching little bits of his body under my massive feet. I grinned and held my hand out for him to see, the hand that he had been pulling energy from. "See?" I said as I opened my palm for his frantic eyes to see. If he had more control over his features at the moment he might have shown more surprise. "Graphite. I learn and adapt, Creel. Set you up real good. You weren't stealing my power, you were absorbin' the properties of some fragile shit."

"You sonofa—"

"Say good night, Gracie."

I stomped down on what was left of his face, cracking his ugly mug for all it was worth. The bastard had it coming and I didn't even feel the slightest bit of remorse. I expected the chunks of graphite his body was now made up of to start turning back to normal now that he was dead, but nothing happened. A little anti-climactic, I guess, but fuck it. The guy was done for and that was all that matter.

Next, I was headed straight for the penthouse and Mister G to rip him into a thousand pieces like his stooge here. Sirens were blaring just outside which meant that I had to be quick. There wasn't a cop alive that could bring me in but staying out of the law's spotlight was the smart thing to do. I had to hurry.

Ripping the entire elevator car out of the shaft, I stepped into the now empty space and fell the two floors to the basement. With my feet then firmly planted on the ground, I pushed off and rocketed straight up. A little hop like that was a cakewalk for a guy like me.

The penthouse came up quickly and I grabbed hold of the shaft walls to slow my ascent. Once in position, I punched in the steel elevator doors and plopped right down into the luxurious suite that only Mister G had access to. Not even I was allowed up here when I still worked for the guy.

"Glad to see you could make it, Mister Fixit."

I whirled my head around to see G himself standing across the room with Marlo a few feet behind him. Rat bastard had her up here the whole time. Lord knows what the slime was doing with her. Standing there in his expensive, white suit he looked like the devil incarnate if Satan had been lawyer.

"Hold it," he said as I stepped forward. "I thought we could discuss this. Like business men."

That caught my attention. "I'm listening."

"Good. I thought that would be the case. Listen to me, Joseph. You're a smart guy and there's no reason why this needs to be difficult. I'd be more than happy to offer you double whatever Marcus Price is paying you. You're worth it and I'm sure you've realized within your short employ with him that Price isn't the most…appreciative boss."

"You think that just throwing money my way is going to make kidnapping Marlo go away?"

His beady little eyes shifted back and forth from me to her. "Kidnapping? Miss Chandler is here of her own accord, Joseph. I merely had my men pick her up for her own protection."

"Yeah, right. And I'm the Dahli Llama. Protection from what?"

"From you, Joe," Marlo said.

I looked at her with a little shock and a lot of annoyance. "What the fuck is that supposed to mean?"

"You have to admit, Joseph, that you can be a little…discouraging." G was looking at me the way a hyena looks at a meal. "So, what do you say? Do we have a deal? You come back on the payroll and we put all this behind us."

He said payroll but he meant leash. I was sick of having these guys play me when it should have been the other way around. All these pathetic humans cared about was getting something to make their lives easier, no matter the cost. I looked him square in the eye and gave him the only answer I could:

"Fuck you."

* * *

Vegas was dead to me. Marlo was so terrified of me after witnessing firsthand what I had done to my old boss that there was no way I could get her to see things my way. There was nothing left for me in that city.

So, I left.

I jumped a few miles at a time for the rest of the night, leaving it all behind me. Damn shame, too. There was a lot of opportunity there and I now knew why they called it The City That Luck Built. One minute you're sitting on a fat pile of chips and the next you're flushed down the toilet. I could start over, though, somewhere else. Some place where Banner wouldn't resurface. A place where a guy like me could find his place in the world and get a shitload of cash in the process.

After all, what happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas.

* * *

END


End file.
